35. In Which Twig Falls Apart

Of course she crossed paths with Darkrai while out on her walk. He wasn’t just some hazy presence in the shadows of the forest, either— he was visible as any tree or fern on the trail, hands clasped and subtly wringing ever so slightly as he stood off to the side of the path. He perked up when he saw her, and she immediately turned on her heel and made for home. 

“Twig, if I may have a word—” he began. 

“Nope. Not in the mood to deal with you right now, sorry man.” 

“You’ve been worrying me. I am not fool enough to turn a blind eye to how you carry yourself or how you behave when faced with danger. Will you not answer me and say if you are well? Truly?”

Twig stopped dead in her tracks as she registered just what he’d said. “Did you tell Kip to worry about me wanting to off myself?”

Silence. 

“Great. Great! Wonderful. I can’t face him knowing that. Awesome.” She gritted her teeth and took in a long, slow breath. “Why’d you even care? Isn’t that kind of the whole point, at least with your plan to rule a world of darkness or whatever? You wouldn’t have to lift a finger if I did the deed myself, right—”

“My plans have changed significantly,” he said abruptly, cutting her off. “I find little appeal in ruling much of anything nowadays. The thought of you doing yourself harm is— it’s— I take no pleasure in it. It’s sickening to think of.”

That gave her pause. Maybe what Celebi said was true, then, if Darkrai wasn’t plotting to take over the world again. She changed his mind. But no sooner had those four words entered her thoughts than a bitter sneer found its way onto her face. “I’m pretty sure it’s not sickening to think about the world being a better place without me, but okay,” she grumbled. 

Darkrai’s gaze snapped to her. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

She quirked a brow, looking him up and down. 

“I’m aware that I— I meant with your kinsfolk. I’ve witnessed your refusal to believe they carry affection for you like they would any other. You’ve convinced yourself that they’re better off without you— I know it too well from what I’ve seen of your nightmares. Why?”

She squared her shoulders and shoved past him, calling over her shoulder as she turned back home on the path. “Because they are better off without me.”

“They aren’t. Grovyle fears your death more than his own.”

She ignored the sting of tears in her eyes. “That’s literally just Grovyle. He’s like that with everybody. Even the mailman.”

“Celebi sees you as a family member worthy of any sacrifice necessary.”

“Celebi was willing to die to bring back a sunrise she wouldn’t get to see. She’s sacrificed it all already. It doesn’t mean anything to give it up twice.”

“Dusknoir sees you as his own.”

“Dusknoir is everyone’s weird wannabe-dad. I’m not special that way.”

“Kip is clearly—”

At the mention of her partner’s name, Twig rounded on him. “Don’t you dare say anything to me about how Kip is glad to be my friend, or he couldn’t bear to live without me, or whatever garbage you’re going to pull out next. I know that. I know he was shaking in his boots at every moment when we met. I know I changed that for him. But I also dragged him into my mess with— with almost getting him killed by Grovyle or Dusknoir or Dialga, and lying to him about me being erased from time because I didn’t want to see him be sad about it, and dragging him around time and space with me until he wasn’t able to evolve for years. Kip might need me, but he doesn’t deserve me. He doesn’t deserve the world’s most lousy excuse of a person as a partner. He doesn’t deserve someone who didn’t want him to leave on his dream expedition for a couple years because she was scared of how she’d handle living on her own. He doesn’t deserve—” Her voice broke, and she struggled to find the words she hated most to say. 

Darkrai watched her pityingly. Something in her ate that up— the fact she was being seen, and seen as something worthy of sympathy even in all of her wretchedness— and something else in her hated the fact that she was stirring up any sense of sadness in someone. That hatred fought hard to come out on top, but the hungry, sorrowful thing inside her lurked close to the surface. 

“Kip doesn’t deserve someone who’s as messed up as I am dragging him down,” she finally said. 

“I believe he’d beg to differ.” Darkrai’s wide-eyed, worried stare narrowed. “You seem to think very little of the people you call your closest allies, if you believe they bear no affection for you or act in ill-judgment if they do.”

Twig looked away, tears pricking at her eyes. “Shut up.” 

“Do you truly hold so little faith in their words when they say they wish you well?”

“I said, shut up—”

“Why do you act as though they hate you?” 

“Because they should!” Twig shouted. Darkrai flinched back at the ferocity in her words, and something about that made a shard of hurt lodged deep inside her stir with the urge to give chase. “Because I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to any of them! If it weren’t for me, they’d be living happily and without a single worry, but they’re not! Because of me! Because I’m stupid and selfish and can’t get it through my thick skull that they’re better off without me, so I hang around and hurt everyone even more than I did the last time I opened my mouth!” She threw her arms wide in a furious motion. “But apparently they’re all too stupid to hate me themselves, so I’m the one who needs to hate myself enough that I stay in line and don’t be such a useless burden that they realize I’m not worth keeping around!” 

Silence. 

Twig ground her teeth, torn between preening at the sorrowful look Darkrai was giving her or throttling him for giving her it in the first place. She returned her arms to her sides, balling her hands into fists, and turned to leave when a new voice caught her attention. 

“Do you really think that?” 

Twig looked up. 

Oh. There was Dusknoir, Celebi, Grovyle, and Kip— all standing just a ways off from her on the path. Apparently they came to check on her together. Apparently they overheard her spitting those awful things and spilling her guts, and now Grovyle wanted to know if it was the truth. 

She pursed her lips, considering her answer. “It’s true, isn’t it? I’m not… I’m not worth keeping around. I’m not…” Her face screwed up as she began to cry, unable to hold back her tears. “I’m not someone worth caring about, and it’s dumb to think that, but I can’t stop, and… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m being annoying, I’ll stop, just give me a minute—“

Grovyle stepped forward once, twice— put out his hand and then pulled it back, unsure of how to help despite feeling pulled to it. 

“How can I help?” He asked. 

Twig felt something raw and bloody in her gut itself to get the words out of her mouth. “… Could I have a hug?” 

He opened his arms. Twig met him halfway as he shakily stepped toward her, and she wrapped her arms around him in a numb sort of echo of what a hug should be. His hand trembled as he rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades, then tucked her head under his chin and pulled her closer. 

For the first time since that awful day her past crawled out of its grave and back into her head, another memory returned to Twig. This one was new, foreign in its familiarity and how well it felt like it fit in an empty place in her chest.

(She was scared of the sableye running outside of their hiding spot in search of the trio of fugitives, unable to sleep for her terror at the thought of being discovered, and Grovyle held her like he was now. Twig had felt safe back then. Nothing scary could get her. Not while Grovyle was around. She fell asleep certain everything would be okay as long as they were together.)

Twig wept, then cried, then bawled. There were no words for her to say. What was there to be said? Right now, she had Grovyle to hold her as she wailed and sobbed like a little kid, and Kip rushing over to join the embrace. She didn’t care if people were looking at her. She didn’t care that Darkrai had vanished soon after everyone arrived and she didn’t know where he disappeared to. Nothing mattered right now except for that raw, bloody, hurting thing inside her being washed clean by the tears she shed in her friends’ arms. 

Maybe she wasn’t a burden. It didn’t seem like you’d hold a burden like she was being held right now. It hurt to think about for too long— that raw thing inside her still sensitive and painful— but maybe she could sometime later. 

Much later. 

She still had so many more tears to shed, and it didn’t seem like Grovyle or Kip were letting go of her any time soon.